


Running Hot

by BoxWineConfessions



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom JJ, Dom/sub, Face-Sitting, JJ just wants to be fucked raw okay, M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking, but like super vanilla, condom negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: Leroy pulls him close and kisses him. He tries to start in the same way that he always tries to kiss. Harsh, demanding, rough, but they aren’t doing it that way this morning. In the morning the sun rises slowly. Light creeps into the room softly and slowly. Then, before you even know what is happening, everything’s wrapped up in blinding white light. That’s how they’re doing it.





	Running Hot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracorys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracorys/gifts), [indimkr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indimkr/gifts).



Leroy has the air conditioner turned on despite the fact that it’s mid march, and Seoul is quite temperate this time of year. It says a lot about him as a person really. Otabek doesn’t like to dwell in the past, but he can’t seem to remember him ever wearing a pullover out on the ice when they trained together. When he sees Leroy in flashes of the past, he tends remember him forgoing a proper jacket in the early weeks of winter. Even when the northern winds bit at their noses, and their hands, and their ankles the hardest, it seemed as if he always had on the least amount of clothing possible.

It is a testimony to Leroy as a person in general. He runs hot. On the ice, he medals. Off ice, he works at a frantic and almost detrimental pace. Leroy throws his energy into hobbies which turn semi professional, and burn out as quickly as they began. Otabek would be tempted to say that when he talks he runs on hot air, but as it stands most things that Leroy says can be backed up with the truth.

Leroy sleeps on his stomach. His arms are tucked underneath the pillow cradling his head. During the night, he kicked the covers off, which was fine. More for Otabek, who didn’t so much like the cold. His back is covered in gooseflesh, which Otabek would very much like to rub away by running his hands across the expanse of Leroy’s back. Kiss away at the raised bumps of his spine, his shoulder blades, and his neck.

In due time.

Last night, Leroy was running hot. Pushed him down onto the bed, and in a grand display of bravado, took a great amount of time and effort showing Otabek all the expensive and wonderful toys that he could now buy that he was old enough. Now, there was no need for fingers alone. There was no need to use hair brush handles inappropriately. Now, they had many options to chose from.

But Leroy, true to form, was not content in showing Otabek the toys and choosing one. He started with the smallest, and worked his way up to the largest. In agonizing detail he worked each toy into himself, and made Otabek watch. Then, and only then when he was worked wide did Leroy push him down flat onto the bed. He remembered a condom only at Otabek’s insistence. Although it was Leroy sitting on his cock, it was Otabek that felt pressure, and intensity, and the overwhelming feeling that it was too much too fast. Leroy rode him relentlessly until his cock ached and his body felt sore.

Otabek traces his spine gently. Leroy stirs in his sleep but does not wake. Otabek pulls at the elastic band of Leroy’s loud silk red pajama shorts.

This morning, they would be doing things his way.

Otabek gets the pants pulled down just over the crest of Leroy’s ass. He can’t yank them down properly, and so this will have to do. In that moment, Otabek is torn at what he should do next. Should he use his fingers? Is he being overzealous? Should he just kiss the other man awake and watch his eyes flutter open as he kisses him on the mouth, and the shoulder and the neck? What he really wants is to use his mouth. The desire to pull the pajama pants down further, part his cheeks wide, and lap at the skin until he’s dragged into consciousness is almost overwhelming.

With one small, but significant caveat. Was it worth missing seeing those big blue eyes flutter open? Is it worth missing that moment where they’re still addled with sleep, and Leroy looks confused? Damn near humble, as if his confusion is a subtle reminder that he’s human.

Otabek opts to take one greedy handful of Leroy’s ass. Then another. He squeezes, applies just enough pressure, and then, there it is. Leroy has impossibly long eyelashes, like a woman's’. He always wakes looking refreshed. Never an under eye bag, or crust in his eye. During training camp, Otabek found it annoying. Now, he finds it alluring.

“So what the girls say in Montreal is true.” Leroy raises on a single elbow, turns, and locks eyes with him fully. “I’m addictive.”

Otabek feels his mouth pull into a half smirk. They both know that Leroy isn’t having anything to do with girls in Montreal. Not girls. Girl. Singular. Isabella Yang has had Leroy wrapped around her finger since before he lived in Canada. She won’t have much of anything to do with him. Otabek won’t bring it up right now. It’s highly irrelevant.

“That’s right.”

Leroy turns slightly, sits up, and the mere fact that his ass disappears from view is enough to make him furrow his brow in disappointment. It’s an unfortunate reminder that he’s still partially clothed.

“C’mere,” Leroy pulls him close and kisses him. He tries to start in the same way that he always tries to kiss. Harsh, demanding, rough, but they aren’t doing it that way this morning. In the morning the sun rises slowly. Light creeps into the room softly and slowly. Then, before you even know what is happening, everything’s wrapped up in blinding white light. That’s how they’re doing it. .

Otabek slows him down the only way that he knows how. Fingers tangle into the longer strands of hair, and pull lightly. He pulls Leroy off of him. A thin strand of saliva connects them. Of course when he pulls him off, Leroy’s mouth is wide open. It make a beautiful picture. “Slow down.”

“I love to go fast.” He supplies simply. “Wanna show you how good at this I am.”

“You showed me last night.”

“I’ll show you. I’ll conquer you.”  
“Not now.

“You’ll see, and then you’ll want to move back. It will be too late because Isabella will finally-”

Fire meets ice when they kiss again. Leroy works his tongue inside deepening the kiss immediately. Otabek keeps him in check by pulling back. He teases with soft flicks of the tongue, and then refuses to respond to Leroy’s kisses at all. He simply lets him squirm and move against his mouth and his body in frustration and discomfor.

“I like to go fast. Be rough. It’s my style Otabek.”

Otabek kisses him again, lest the words actually spill out of his mouth. He’s not nearly controlled enough to leave. But the way his friend talks make him feel like he’s listening to someone rake their nails against a chalkboard. There’s no way Otabek can let him get away with it.

“JJ Style.”

Otabek grabs his hands before he can move them into his little J’s. He hauls Leroy up onto his chest, and indulges him in one more kiss. Otabek allows this one to be bruising. Just the way Leroy likes it. Otabek runs his hands down Leroy’s sides. Rests his hands on the irksome silk pants.

Leroy grinds up against him relentlessly. Otabek appreciates the friction and the drag despite the fact that they’re partially clothed. There’s something so undeniably perfect about pushing into Leroy slowly. There’s something relentlessly satisfying about watching his huge cock bob and rut against nothing while Otabek stretches him.

“You know,” Otabek hooks his leg around Leroy’s middle, and flips their positions. He discards the pajama bottoms once and for all, and watches in mesmerized satisfaction as Leroy’s cock spills forth from the crimson silk. It takes little effort to get Leroy turned on. Less so in the morning when he’s relaxed, and rested, and ready to go. “I was going to let you sit on my face, but um-”

Leroy’s face falls. It’s one of the few ways Otabek can get what he wants out of the other man. Let him sit on his face, hold his hips still until they were dotted with immaculate little bruises, and then fuck him nice and slow after he’d tired himself out rutting and jerking and moaning and clenching against Otabek’s mouth. “If you can’t behave.”

“Otabek!” Leroy’s tone is indignant. He’s not used to being told no. Otabek continues to tease his partner. Leroy deserves it. He mouths soft little half kiss half suck motions into Leroy’s neck and collar bones. Not enough pressure to leave a mark, too much pressure to not add to his building arousal. “You’re being unfair!”

Leroy wrestles him back down onto the mattress, first so that they’re laying side by side, next so that he’s on top. Leroy doesn’t kiss him again, instead he goes straight for Otabek’s nipples. Leroy is the only person on earth that knows that this part of his body is so sensitive. He wields it recklessly and without bandon as he often would.

It takes minimal pressure and the slightest graze of Leroy’s teeth to get him panting. “You always love having your tits played with,” he teases and shoots Otabek a wink and a cheeky grin before moving back down to the other nipple. Otabek lets him bathe it with kisses and bites before wrestling them back over.

“You know I don’t like it when you talk to me like that.” Otabek’s hands move without thinking. He pushes Leroy over onto his stomach, and Leroy complies in lieu of trying to wrestle back control of the situation. Much like these hotel room rendezvous, control is fleeting. It’s playfully wrestled away and forcefully held still.

Otabek’s intention was to grab, knead, circle his hole with his finger, and watch him pucker in anticipation. What actually happens is quite different. Otabek raises his hand, and brings it down with a deafening smack.  
  
Leroy moans, but not just the breathy little moans he makes to make himself sound like he’s one of the men in the videos he jerks off to. Leroy moans, but not the husky, genuine noises that he makes when Otabek is fucking him deep. This one sounds as if it’s been ripped out of him. This one sounds he didn’t even know that he wanted it, but he’s overwhelmed by it.

Otabek cocks an eyebrow, meets Leroy’s gaze over his shoulder. “Again?”

It comes out in a choked sob stuffed with too many syllables “Otabek, yes please.”

Otabek is more than willing to indulge this particular request. He raises his hand once more and smacks the other cheek. The cracking noise of hand against skin is accented by bursts of little half moans from Leroy coupled with deep grunts. Otabek smacks the skin until an angry red handprint forms on Leroy’s ass. Otabek alternates cheeks until Leroy’s entire ass is red.

“Otabek, it feels so good.”

_ Smack _

“I’ll talk about your tits all the time if that’s what it takes.” 

_ Smack _

“Cause I know-ah-that you like it”

_ Smack _

“When I do-ah-what you tell me not to.” 

_ Smack _

“Otabek,” and the word “please” dries up on his tongue so that it comes off as a high pitched whimper.

Otabek runs a soothing hand over Leroy’s reddened and angry skin. Kisses gently at the flesh, in an attempt to soothe away the hurt that he inflicted moments before. “Would you still like to sit on my face?”

Leroy whimpers something that sounds like yes in response. Otabek leans down to kiss him again. He wants to savor this moment. The rare strange times when he leaves Leroy speechless are arguably the best, not because he doesn’t want to hear what the other man has to say, but because it’s such a daunting task. They rearrange swiftly. It’s a position that comes naturally. It’s something that Otabek had just done for Leroy last night, but he legitimately enjoys it.

Leroy hisses when Otabek splays his hands wide across Leroy’s ass and spreads him open. Otabek can feel how red hot the skin is.

As if to counter the intimacy and the vulnerability in the moment, Leroy informs him in a voice that is nothing but unadulterated confidence and bravado, “I always get what I want.”

Otabek tests Leroy’s hole with his tongue. He’s tight, but not impossibly so. Not after last night. Otabek works his tongue in wide sweeping circles around his partner’s hole until he’s babbling once more.

“How are you so good at this?”

Practice.

“I love the way that you do this.”

He knows.

“I really want your cock.”

Of course he does.

“I always get what I want,” he offers in muffled response. What he wanted was simple. To make Leroy sweat. To make him wait. To make him want. It’’s been accomplished.

Otabek presses in with his tongue. He tastes of generic hotel soap and the natural musk of his body. It lingers in his thick body hair, and in his underwear, and even here. Otabek is a greedy lover. He admits that he takes what he wants, and doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied. He does this to Leroy, simply because Leroy never denies him. Lets Otabek eat him out until he’s leaking precome and straining. Let’s Otabek torment him until his legs are trembling from sitting in a squatting position for so long.

“I really,-ah-really want your cock.”

Otabek wonders if he’s biting his lips and holding back. If he’s trying to steal glances of them in the room’s mirror.

Otabek drags his teeth along Leroy’s rim for good measure. Put him back into his place one final time, although Otabek isn’t sure what his place is or what it should be.

Otabek gives Leroy’s ass one final smack. It’s lighter in comparison, and doesn’t crack with a sharp audible pop. However, he can feel the way Leroy jerks above him. Otabek taps on his hip. “On your back.”

They rotate once more seamlessly.

Otabek pulls his boxers down. He grabs the condoms, and of course the lube.

“Do we have to?” Leroy pouts and looks at the foil wrapper in his hand.

“It’s cleaner this way,” Otabek huffs in response. He can pin him down to the bed and rut into his thigh until he’s hard again. There is no awkward waiting while the one tries to clean up, and the other is left with a tacky mess on their skin.

Leroy bites his bottom lip. Grabs his cock by the base and pumps it while they talk. “But I’m clean.”

Otabek doesn’t argue further. He simply rolls the condom down his cock and applies more lube.

Leroy’s body yields to him right away. For moment all Otabek can do is marvel at all of the tight and compact muscle beneath him. He runs his fingers over chest, stomach, hips, and what he can reach of his thighs. Otabek loops his hand underneath Leroy’s knee and rests it on top of his shoulder. This position lets him bury himself deeper, kiss Leroy deeper.

Otabek moves his hips in slow circles, never pulling back, only rutting in the same place deep inside.

The way that Leroy tosses his head from side to side, screws his eyes shut, and grasps at the sheets strongly implies that Otabek is hitting him in just the right spot, and not for a moment relenting.

“Why do you always kiss me?”

Otabek starts to thrust in and out. First slow shallow drags. Then long shallow drags of his cock. The goal, no matter what the technique or approach, was to make Leroy sweat. If nothing else, Otabek wanted to make him think about this on the plane home tomorrow, and the day after and he day after and the day after.

“Like you wanna seduce me?”

He wants to seduce him.

“How are you so good at this?”

He makes him good.

“Can I come? Wanna come.Gonna-ah- come soon, so it would be great if-”

He forces him to be good. He requires precision, and perfection and there is no room for anything less.

Leroy can’t buck against him easily in their current position. Otabek planned it this way. What he didn’t account for is Leroy writing around on the bed. Otabek leans forward, further folding Leroy’s leg against his chest. Otabek holds down his shoulders with a firm grasp and most of his body weight. Pounds into him relentlessly. Gives in, burns up, is consumed.

By some miracle, he manages to hang on until Leroy’s coming in his hand. Otabek looks at him. He looks so fucked out, and his eyes are blown wide. Otabek wonders if the other man will even get soft now that he’s come. He does that sometimes; he stays hard until Otabek milks him dry after three or four rounds.

Otabek comes, not with a shout, or a whimper, but with a noise that is soft and undignified. Undoes all the hard work that he’s put into building up their dynamic and enacting it. It spills from his mouth and into the shell of his ear so that it’s undeniable.

A simple, intimate, “Jean.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr! @ boxwineconfession


End file.
